Page 53 of 7 Days and 7 Nights

In the middle of reaching into her underwear drawer, her gaze swung to the nightstand, and before she could really think it out, she was pulling out the Victoria’s Secret bag so that she could shimmy into the black satin thong.Uh-oh.

Dropping the hem of the dress back into place, she stopped to study her reflection in the mirror. Outwardly, nothing seemed different. On the outside, she looked like the calm and collected Dr. Olivia Moore; but inside, under the black satin thong, she felt sexy and wanton and someone else entirely—a dangerous dichotomy unlikely to work to her advantage.

Olivia frowned at her thirty-year-old reflection. Subdued and decorous would see her through the evening far more safely than wild and uninhibited, and if she knew what was good for her, Matt would never suspect what she wore beneath the folds of her dress.

At his first glimpse of her, Matt’s eyes lit up, and he gave an appreciative whistle. “Wow. There must have been something pretty potent in those bath bubbles.”

Olivia blushed as she remembered just how potent those bubbles had been. “It felt great, Matt. I never would have thought of it on my own.”

He looked surprised by the admission but then smiled, obviously pleased. “Here, have some more champagne while I go shower and change. I seem to smell a little more like dinner than I intended.” He sent her a cheeky glance and an exaggerated wink. “Wouldn’t want you to get confused about what to chomp down on first.”

She smiled back and tried not to enjoy the way he was looking at her. Subdued and decorous, she repeated to herself as the soft fabric of her dress swished against the bare flesh of her behind. Her lips twitched up at the thought. “Go. Is there something I can stir or turn while you’re gone?”

“Nope. But you can put some music on if you’d like. I’ll be back in a flash.”

“Good. I’m starving. And I’m not sure how long I can control myself.”Wasn’t that the truth?

“Fair enough. If I’m not back before the timer goes off, the hors d’oeuvres are all yours.”

Olivia sipped champagne and wandered around the room. With a small wave to the cameras, she grabbed Matt’s iPad which he had paired to Bluetooth speakers that sat on the media console. Scrolling through his playlists, Olivia was surprised to find how closely his taste mirrored hers.

The black balloon bouquets and “Over the Hill” sign still drew her gaze, but with a little effort, she managed to focus on the flower arrangements instead. Matt had moved one of them to the center of the kitchen table, which he’d set for two.

She spent the rest of her time pacing and trying not to picture Matt naked in the next room, rubbing soap all over his hard-muscled body. Or showering it off under the pulsing stream of hot water. Or skimming the towel over every inch of his awesome body.Oops.

Olivia stopped in front of the small mirror on the foyer wall and glared at her reflection. “Okay, you. Repeat after me,” she thought. “Do not touch the chef under any circumstances. Do not get any closer to him than absolutely necessary. And whatever you do, don’t drink too much.”

???

Olivia picked up her wineglass and took another long, soothing sip. Her nerves vibrated just under her skin, and the only thing that seemed to interrupt the hum was the ingestion of wine—a very temporary fix that required constant repetition and put a great big hole in her plan to keep her distance.

So far she’d maintained the maximum clearance possible given the shortage of space, but she’d caught the amused look on Matt’s face enough times now to suspect he knew just how hard she was working to keep it that way. Worse, it was becoming increasingly difficult to remember just why maintaining that distance was so important.

Somewhere along the way, they’d finished the second bottle of champagne and started on the burgundy Matt had insisted would complement the upcoming meal. Smoothing the hem of her dress over her knees, she sat up straighter on her barstool and made a stab at conversation. “Is this spanakopita?”

Matt picked up one of the triangles of puffed pastry and popped it into his mouth. “Umm-hmm. The Greek deli near the station sent them over as a birthday treat for you. Actually, a lot of our advertisers are wanting in on your thirtieth birthday.”

“I can’t tell you what aging before a national audience does for a woman’s ego.”

“Just think of yourself as a fine wine, Olivia. You’re becoming richer, more full-bodied.”

Funny, how his voice could go all hot and sexy without any warning like that. Olivia lifted her wineglass, drained it in one long swallow, and felt the resulting warmth seep through her.

“And?” she demanded.

“And what?”

She tried to figure out why he was being so charming, but her brain didn’t seem to be up to the task. The warmth infused her and began to seep outward to her limbs.

“No cracks? No jokes about my age? Just ‘You’re like a fine wine’?”

“Me? Make jokes about your age?” He smiled. “I happen to think the wine analogy fits. You were cute at twenty-one, Olivia, but you wear thirty very well.” His gaze swept over her, and her flesh reacted as if it were his fingers that trailed across it.

Looking for a distraction, Olivia picked up the bottle of wine sitting on the counter and poured herself another glass.

Spellbound, she watched his large, capable hands arrange the duck breast medallions on the plate. His fingers were long and supple, and for a moment she allowed herself to remember the feel of them skimming over her skin, urging her on to places she’d never been before… or since. She took a gulp of wine and watched him place whipped garlic potatoes and roasted asparagus next to the duck.

"Wow,” she said. “I feel like I’m in a five-star restaurant.”

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